Maddie Ellis and the Malibu Movie Colony is an old-fashioned mystery serial set during the end of the silent movie era. In Chapter 19, writer Maddie Ellis spends a little time getting to know more about the Malibu Colony and this small, isolated community’s unusual residents, and learns more disquieting things about the stars of Sands of Afar, the troubled film she was hired to rewrite.
Maddie’s boxes arrived from London later that week and offered a welcome distraction from the gloomy February weather. She was glad to be reunited with her treasures, and most especially with her music and her books. Her gramophone took up residence upstairs in her study, so she could listen while she worked. Her collection of records was small but eclectic. Maddie loved music.
A framed photo of her family in the vanished days when her father was still alive, and one of her sister Anna and her little daughter Alice, joined the Egyptian cat and the typewriter on the improvised desk. A Japanese brush painting of an owl perched on a pine bough went over the fireplace. She placed a print of a smug tabby cat, drawn by the late Swiss artist Théophile-Alexandre Steinlen on the wall beside her desk. These things made the room feel like her own. Then it was time to get back to work.
Maddie pitched an article on travel in Europe to a national magazine, and one on the domestic economy in Britain to a women’s journal. Then she wrote three chapters for a new novel that she had been dreaming of ever since her first was published the year before. A cheeringly robust cheque from her London publisher had made its way to the beach house, inspiring this burst of writing fervor.
When she wasn’t writing, Maddie continued to explore the beach, despite the gray weather. On one occasion, she met Milo’s friend and patron Herbert Brenon. She wasn’t sure what to expect of the famous curmudgeon, but he was entirely charming. Perhaps it was only actors who met with his disapproval. Milo had told her that Brenon preferred to work with temperamental performers.
Maddie wondered what Brenon would make of the cast of Sands of Afar, but she didn’t ask.
On another occasion, Maddie met Leon Verlaine, walking the short way down from his cottage to the wet sand, cane in hand, aided by his valet Rupert.
“As you see, dear lady, the old reprobate is recovering,” Verlaine told her, when she asked after his health. “My doctor assures me that I shall soon be free to return to my life of vice and villainy.”
When the tide was in, the Colony was like an island. The only way onto the beach was through the gatehouse, or by boat. The rock reefs and big surf would have made swimming a chancy business, and the water was cold. There was solitude in abundance during high tide.
When the tide was low the beach sometimes attracted a few walkers, beachcombers, and fishermen. One didn’t need to be on the exclusive resident and guest list at low tide. One could walk in from the highway at the end of the row of houses, but the hardy souls who liked to stroll on the shore in the winter weather tended to be solitary by nature. The beach and the row of houses along it remained mostly empty.
Maddie liked her solitude, but sometimes she was troubled by a feeling of isolation. It was a new sensation for her. She had been on her own for five years, traveled the world by herself, but there had always been people to talk to. Here, there were only the gulls for company.
Mr Crosby, the property manager, stopped by from time to time to ask if she needed anything or had enough firewood. He had a small, picturesque cottage by the tennis courts, supplied by the property owner. It was complete with green-painted shutters, a rain barrel at each corner, and a veranda with a rocking chair. Crosby could be seen chopping firewood behind the cottage on occasion. There was a large shed there that he used to keep it dry.
“I like to keep fit,” he told Maddie as he unloaded a stack of oak logs from his old Model A truck. He gave every indication of being as fit as the proverbial fiddle, but he wasn’t much of a conversationalist.
Once Maddie asked him about the rain barrels at his cottage, thinking that might be a good way to provide one’s self with better water than the brackish stuff that flowed from the tap. He looked at her blankly. But then, it almost never seemed to rain, so perhaps the barrels were purely decorative. And, in any case, there probably wasn’t a way to prevent the seagulls from perching on the rooftop and making a mess in the rain gutters.
If one was desperate for a more in-depth chat with a fellow human being one could run across the highway to the little general store to pick up one’s mail, or buy stamps or oranges or a newspaper and visit with the genial shopkeeper and his movie-obsessed daughter. The only telephone in the vicinity of the Colony was there.
The shopkeeper, Mr Klein, tended to stick to the weather, or else the price of canned goods. His daughter, whose name was Violet, knew everything about everyone in Malibu Movie Colony, often before the people involved knew it themselves.
Violet might have resembled a younger version of the housewife on the tins of cocoa behind the counter if she had not chosen to model her looks and wardrobe after the actress Louise Brooks. Her light brown hair was ferociously bobbed. Her eyes peered out from rings of dark makeup that made her resemble an amiable raccoon. Her eyebrows had been plucked into invisibility and replaced by neatly drawn pencil lines. Her lipstick was applied with equally rigid geometry and without regard for the actual shape of her lips.
Violet dreamed of a career as an actress. Maddie thought that her real talent was for tabloid journalism, and told her so, earning a friend for life. Violet was delighted, and made sure to share all of her choicest news items with her, although she was a generous soul and shared the latest gossip with all comers. Maddie had even seen the dull Mr Crosby listening with apparent interest.
Violet told her that Crosby had a thriving business on the side, selling firewood.
“He drives all over, looking for logs to salvage and places to sell firewood. He knows where all of the houses are, even the ones in the canyons,” Violet said. “If you ever need directions to someone’s house, he’s the one to ask.”
She also shared that Mr Crosby was a former stunt rider at the Inceville movie ranch. “He knows a lot of great stories, if you can get him to talk.”
It was Violet who told Maddie all about Johnny Roberts and Isabel Flores. Maddie was torn between distaste at hearing unsavory gossip about people she now knew, and morbid curiosity over what happened to them. Curiosity won out. It usually did.
“Ooooh, they were such a lovely couple,” Violet told her confidentially. “Always together. They’d come out for the day, and sometimes,” Violet lowered her voice to a whisper. “Sometimes they had parties and stayed all night. Johnny was building that funny house with the pillars in front. He was building it for her, he said.
“But didn’t Isabel already have a place of her own?” Maddie asked. “That little cottage that looks like a doll house?”
“Oh yes, I think that’s how they met. As new neighbors. Isabel wasn’t happy at first because Johnny’s place is so much bigger than the others and sticks out so far on the beach, but Johnny told her he was going to make it the nicest house on the beach just for her. They were out all the time, meeting with the builders, bringing things they’d bought in town, arguing about curtains and wallpaper and things. Just like a married couple. He bought her the loveliest ring. The biggest diamond you ever saw. The kind they call ‘marquis’ and set in platinum with smaller diamonds all around. I saw it myself, right after he gave it to her. I heard that she gave it back to him. I would have wanted to keep it, wouldn’t you?
“Why did she call off the engagement?” Maddie asked.
“No one knows, but they had the mother of all fights one night.” Violet set down the feather duster she was holding and leaned over the counter, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Isabel was screaming like a banshee, and Johnny was shouting. Joe, the watchman, told me. He said Johnny said something about someone being dead and their love being dead, too. Then he took the car and left her standing in the road shouting all kinds of terrible words after him.
“She was in the next morning, as soon as Pop arrived to open up. She looked like she must have been crying all night but she didn’t say a word, just called for a car to pick her up, and that was the last any of us saw of her here. A mover’s van pulled up later that day, and took all of her things away from her cottage. But Johnny’s been around. You saw his big yacht, didn’t you? Brawley Rowe was with him. He’s just swell. So handsome. He was in here the morning after they arrived for tomato juice. Making a hangover remedy. That’s what Pop said. We always keep it in stock,” she waved her hand at a pyramid of cans. “Someone always needs some on Sunday morning.”
Did you hear about Brawley?” Violet asked. She didn’t wait for Maddie to answer. “He got arrested by the police!” Violet announced, with relish. “Only they released him again. He told them he was just passing by and stopped to help, because he thought there might still be someone inside, but they thought he’d been at the party. But he wasn’t spifflicated or on drugs or anything, so they let him go again. “
“Slow down, Violet! What party? When? Who are ‘they’?”
“The police!” Violet said. “The police found him at the house, and they thought he’d been inside, and they arrested him, but he said he’d only stopped to help.”
“I’m still not following,” Maddie said. “What house?”
“I don’t know. Up in one of the canyons,” Violet said. “It was on fire. The police had a call that some kind of wild party was happening there, but when they got there, it was ‘engulfed in flame’ and there was only Brawley there when the police arrived. The article says that it was one of those kinds of parties where they have drugs and drink and,” she lowered her voice again,“debauchery!”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Maddie replied. “When was this, Violet? Do you know?”
“Last Sunday,” Violet said. “It was in the Monday paper. Didn’t you see it?”
Maddie hadn’t, but she had a sudden memory of Lulu Desmond telling her confidentially that she and Johnny Roberts were headed for a special party, shortly before they drove up Topanga Canyon. It was a coincidence, wasn’t it? There were dozens of canyons, and plenty of other gin-addled partygoers. And yet…
“I hope no one was hurt,” Maddie began, but Violet was already off and running. “Brawley is sooo handsome, and he knows all about sailing,” she exclaimed. “He’s been showing Johnny the ropes, although Johnny hires a crew. Imagine being able to afford a big boat like that and a crew that could sail you anywhere in the world,” Violet appeared overwhelmed by the glorious vision, and came back to earth with a sigh.
“And Billy and Lulu?” Maddie prompted. They were on the yacht, too. Do they sail? Are they friends of Rowe’s? They seem to be quite close to Johnny.”
“Billy’s a good friend of Johnny’s,” Violet said. “He’s been around here quite a bit. He’s sort of a cake-eater—the flaming youth type, you know? He’s always dressed to the nines, even though he’s not so young anymore. If there’s a party, he wrangles an invitation. I don’t know Lulu very well, she never comes into the shop, but Billy often stops by.
“I like him,” Violet proclaimed. “He always comes in and chats with me, even if he’s only buying a box of matches. He loves to hear about what all the Colony people are up to. He always says he’s thinking of leasing a lot here, but I don’t think there are any left to lease. And I know it’s just to be friendly. He doesn’t need those matches he buys. He has the loveliest gold lighter.”
Violet sighed, remembered she was supposed to be working and gave the dry goods piled on the counter a desultory swipe with the feather duster. “Billy is crazy about the beach. He says he likes the fresh air,” she told Maddie. “When he’s here he’s out walking day and night, He likes to look at the stars.” Violet shook her head. Solitary nature walks and stargazing, except for the Hollywood variety, were foreign concepts to her. “I don’t think Lulu cares much for the beach but she does like the Colony parties and never misses one if she can wrangle an invitation.”
“Are Billy and Lulu romantically attached?” Maddie asked. “Someone told me they were, and that they were child stars together and have known each other for years, but Lulu was dancing with Johnny not Billy at the party at Louise’s and I’ve heard that they’re sometimes seen out together.”
“If you ask me, Lulu’s always carried a torch for Johnny,” Violet confided. “Billy and Lulu are good pals. She’s the one who introduced him to the colony. She was out here staying with friends last summer, and he came out here to see her. That’s how they both got to be friends with Johnny, and after that, Billy and Lulu used to come out a lot and stay at Johnny’s, and they would do things together, tennis, and parties, and things.
“Do you know if Isabel Flores was friends with Billy and Lulu, too?” Maddie asked.
Violet looked thoughtful. “I don’t remember ever seeing all four of them together. Johnny and his friends are a bit wild when they’re together, and Isabel isn’t like that. She likes some fun and a good laugh, but she’s not wild. Johnny wasn’t either, not when he was with Isabel, at least, not in the beginning.
“They were fun, Johnny and Isabel. They would come in here and buy all kinds of things. Once they juggled the oranges, tossing them back and forth. It was as good as a show. Another time they shut their eyes and picked things at random daring each other to cook something with all the things they selected.” Violet giggled. “They ended up with anchovy paste, strawberry preserves, and cough drops. Things were always lively when they were here. They were the berries.”
“The what?” Maddie asked.
“The berries,” Violet said. “You know: the bee’s knees, the cat’s pajamas.”
“Ah,” said Maddie. She hadn’t heard that one before. “Well, things seem to be lively wherever Johnny Roberts and his entourage go,” she said. Not only lively, but a good deal too hot for comfort. That reminded her of something else.
“Violet, what do you know about the speakeasy at the bottom of Topanga Canyon?” Maddie asked.
“Pop won’t let me go,” Violet pouted. “And I’d love to see it. He says it’s a bad place. They have all sorts there. Lots of film stars like to go there, but there’s a rough crowd, too. It’s exciting, like a gangster movie. You know. But all they serve is gin, and not even with something nice like ginger ale to make it taste better.”
“Who owns it, does anyone know?”
“Well, someone must, but I never heard. “
“Do any of the locals go there?”
“If they do, they don’t tell me about it,” Violet said, with a toss of her bobbed head.
